By the Book
by Your Misfortune
Summary: Morgan Taylor, the child genius who's graduating from NYU at age 16, has been an orphan all her life. She gets brought in to the NYPD to be questioned and, of course she's innocent, but this visit has something else in store for her.
1. 01

_Morgan Taylor could have had everything. She was a genius, she was a born athlete, and she had the best attitude in the world. She had a talent for boxing, which held strong in her hometown of New York City. She had a quick mind that got her a full scholarship to NYU. Her pretty face was hard to miss, even in a crowd. She had the independence and abilities of an adult. She even had a pretty voice, even from a young age._

_She didn't, however, have many friends in high school. She didn't have much of a social life. She didn't even have much to do, other than study and box. The most important thing she didn't have, though, was a set of parents._

_She'd never had them, and she lived as if all teenagers were brought up without parents. She was also a little different than the rest of the orphans around her: she skipped six grades and graduated high school at age 12. She was ready to graduate from NYU by the time she was 16. Something happened in that spring, though, that changed Morgan's life for ever._

The cold metal of the chair went right through the thin fabric of my tank top. I tried looking out the window, but it was too high and I knew that they weren't going to let me stand up and walk around in here. These guys had taken me out of my class 3 weeks before the final to sit in a cold room and wait for someone to come and interrogate me? I didn't even know why I was here.

I retied my old, beaten-up Converse. I adjusted my studded belt. I took my hair out of its ponytail and put it up again. I swear, when I started working here at the New York City Police Department, I was going to work at making things more efficient.

"Sorry about the wait," a detective said as he walked in. He had a strong Jersey accent, and he was wearing a pair of stylish glasses and a white button-up that was tucked in to his nice jeans. "I'm Detective Messer. I'm assuming you're..." He paused to take a look at a folder. "Miss Taylor?"

"That's me."

"I'm going to cut to the chase. Did you know this man?" He slid a picture of a man from the morgue across the table. I looked at it and instantly knew who it was.

"That's my Psychology professor."

"You sure?"

"Yup."

"You seem really nonchalant about looking at a dead body. Especially the one of someone you knew."

Here goes. "I'm studying to do what you do, Detective, so I can't really react to it."

His eyebrows came together in confusion. "It says here you're sixteen."

"It's right." I glanced out the window. I'd had this conversation a thousand times before, and it never had a good outcome. I mean, come on. All of my fellow students hated me because I was a few years younger than I was.

"I don't get it. Fill me in here."

Once you got past the fact that he was interrogating you, Detective Messer was really attractive.

"I was orphaned when I was little. I skipped six years of school. Now I'm going to NYU. I take finals in three weeks and graduate after that." I was pretty blunt with this information, only because I'd had to relay it so many times to skeptic adults.

He raised his eyebrows. "Interesting. So this is your professor?"

"Yes."

"Can you tell my why your DNA was on his hand?"

"I shook his hand during class yesterday. We were studying how people reacted to what other people did. He had a bunch of us stand up in front of the class in a line, and he would do random things. He ran up to me and shook my hand."

"Can anyone confirm that?"

I sighed. "Yeah. My classmates probably could. They watch me like hawks. I don't have any of their numbers though."

"I'm going to need a compare sample of your DNA, just in case. It won't take long. I'll contact your other professors too, and they'll give me the numbers needed for your alibi." The detective held out a cotton swab. "If you're studying this, you should know the drill."

I opened my mouth and he gently swabbed the inside of my cheek.

He was tucking the swab in its plastic case when he spoke again. "Sorry we took you out of your class and such, but you're a minor. We're also looking for any possible lead here. To be honest, we've got nothing yet." He glanced up at me with a faint smile on his face. "I'll be back," he said. He winked, and left me in the room alone.

"Ugh, not again," I groaned.

I looked behind me and saw the two-way mirror. After deciding I shouldn't stick my tongue out at whoever was on the other side, I leaned back in my chair again and just waited.


	2. 02

Mac Taylor sat at his desk, looking through the professor's case file. He had been at it all day, and not a single thing had come up. And why was today, of all days, the one where the tough case came up? Mac was hardly awake, having barely slept two hours the night before. He didn't even know why he had been so restless the night before, but he just couldn't shake the nagging feeling of premonition in his gut.

"Mac?" Danny said, a little tentatively, as he entered the room, cutting through Mac's thoughts.

"What's up, Danny?"

"Okay, so you know that girl we brought in for suspicion on the Professor case?"

It took Mac a second, but then he remembered. "Yeah. What about her?"

"So apparently she's this orphaned super genius, skipped six grades and is about to graduate college and she's sixteen. We ran that comparison test, and it came up with a relative."

Finally, something good was going to come out of the day. Mac stood up from his chair and straightened his jacket. "Well, first we contact the relative. Then we tell the girl and see what she wants to do."

"This isn't going to be that simple, Mac. At least not from your point of view."

Maybe things weren't going to be as great as Mac had hoped. "What's the problem?"

Danny just slid the folder across the glass table. Mac opened it and, after taking one look, nearly dropped the folder.

"Jesus, Danny, are you serious?"

Danny flinched a little. "That's what it is, Mac. I ran it three times, just to make sure. It's right."

Mac sat back down at his desk, needing a chair to prevent himself from falling over. "It's her, Danny. I can't believe this. Sixteen years later and she's turned up."

"Do you want to be the one to tell her?"

Mac paused, then stood up again. "I need to make sure. I have to go see her. Then I'll know."

**Morgan**  
I'm going to admit that I had been falling asleep in the interrogation room when the door opened and startled me awake. I opened my eyes, hoping to see Detective Messer again. It wasn't him, though; a medium-tall man had just entered the room, maybe looking like he was in his early forties. He had dark hair that was just like my own, except his was flecked with grey. He looked like he could have been ex-military, but I don't know why…maybe it was his strong posture, or the stern expression on his face that looked permanent. He also had a sense of familiarity around him, like I had seen him before.

Wait a second…

**Mac  
**Mac left the interrogation room swiftly. All he had to do was take one look at the girl and he knew that it was her. He left without saying a word to her, mostly because he was scared to death of what he might say.

"Danny? Do you mind keeping her for a few more minutes? I need a minute to get myself together."

"Is it really her, Mac?"

He nodded slowly.

"I'm still not getting what's going on here."

Mac shook his head, looking down at the floor. "It was a long time ago. Seventeen years. Claire and I were…more free-spirited than we should have been. Morgan was the result. Completely unplanned. Neither of us were ready, so we gave her up. We didn't keep contact because it would just be easier for Morgan if we didn't. All of this time, she was right here."

Danny stood back for a second a little in shock at Mac's words. They were so unlike his boos that it took him a second to soak it in. He then went over to Mac and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Do what you need to, Mac. If you want me to tell her, I can do that. I personally think it should be you."

Mac nodded again. "I'll do it. I don't see a reason not to."

"If she ends up living with you or something, I would keep an eye on her. She's a pretty one," Danny said a little slyly. Mac shot him a look, and he laughed.

"Already protective. That's a good thing." His hand fell from Mac's shoulder and he smiled, handing Mac the case file. "Take all the time you need."


	3. 03

After the second man left, Detective Messer came back in. The case file wasn't in his hands anymore, so I was probably cleared.

"Good news," Messer said in his tough Jersey accent. "Your alibi checked out. Surprisingly enough, your classmates checked you out, though they sounded a little annoyed to hear your name."

"They always are. Thanks, Detective. Am I free to go?" I asked, standing up.

"Hold on a minute," the detective said quickly. "There's one more thing."

I stayed standing by the corner of the table. What could they possibly have for me? More papers to fill out on being an emancipated minor?

Messer cleared his throat before he spoke again. "We found a DNA match when we ran yours through the system besides yours…like a paternal match."

I took a step back in shock and lowered myself back into the chair, mostly so I didn't fall over. "You found my father?"

Detective Messer nodded. "We did. Now, he's in the system, but he's not a criminal. I'm gonna leave this up to you: You can stay here and find out who he is, or I can take you back to your dorm now. Either way."

I shook my head. "You mean he's a cop?"

"Let's just say you didn't get that sense for crime out of the ground. He wanted to be the one to tell you and whatnot, so I'm going to head out. It'll only be a few minutes' wait, I promise." He held out his hand for me to shake. I took it, still feeling a little overwhelmed, but liking the comfort of his hand on mine.

"Hope I'll see you soon, Miss Taylor."

"Thanks," I said weakly. It was pretty much all I could say. Detective Messer left the room, but left the door open a teeny bit. I heard a little whispering, someone clearing their throat, and a deeper, more gruff voice saying, "Thanks, Danny. I'll see you in a bit." This is where I braced myself. I knew that, from here on out, my life wouldn't ever be the same.

The man who came in was the same who had walked in and out a few minutes earlier. That's where I had recognized him: from my mirror. I looked just like him. Our hair was even the same color and texture – I could see it from where I was sitting.

For a moment, we just stared at each other. I didn't know what to do…was I supposed to run over and hug him, or be pissed at him for giving me up? I also had a billion questions for him. I just didn't know where to start.

"Morgan?" he asked quietly.

I nodded slowly.

"I'm Mac Taylor," he said, his voice still soft. At the time, I didn't know that it was because he was trying not to cry. "Your father.


	4. 04

"So…so you're my dad." It was all I could honestly think of to say. Most of the time, I have some sort of smart remark. I was always the person who knew exactly what to say. Apparently not this time.

He nodded, pulling up a chair and sitting across from me.

"And my mom?"

A look of hurt crossed his face for a second, but then it was gone. "Her name was Claire. She was killed in the 9/11 bombings."

I kept my gaze away form his. His eyes were way too intense. "I'm sorry."

"No, Morgan. I am."

I finally got up the courage to look at him, and he was looking right at me. I felt frozen. I didn't know this man at all, and suddenly he's my father? And I thought I was having a hard time adjusting to the fact that the cops brought to in to ask me a few questions.

"I'm sorry that you ever had to live like you have been. That I wasn't there to be your father. I just need to say that, whether you need me or not, I'm here for you now." He reached across the table and took my hand firmly in his.

I felt my nose close up and the breath stop in my chest. Great, now I was going to cry. I sniffed as one tear leaked from the corner of my eye, still not breaking eye contact with Mac. His look had turned from apologetic to hurt, and he released my hand quickly.

"I…" He started to say something, but then stopped. He was the one who looked down first as he got up and headed for the door.

"Wait," I said, startling even myself. I stood from my chair and went over to Mac, still trying to read what his face was saying. He looked a little confused as to what I was doing…but then again, so was I. We stood there for a second, staring at each other, before I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around Mac. At first, I felt his muscles tense up (and I was probably right about the military thing – even for being 40-something, this guy was solid), but after a moment, they relaxed and he returned the hug. Now the tears were falling freely down my face and onto Mac's suit (whoops…). I felt his breathing pattern shudder, and his arms tightened around me.

"I'm so sorry, Morgan."


	5. 05

I followed Mac to his clear glass office and sat down opposite his chair.

"So you're going to graduate soon?" he asked, setting the file down on the table.

"Yup. Three weeks until finals," I replied.

"Danny told me you were studying to do what we do."

I nodded. "Yeah. More of the investigation side, though. I don't know what I would do if I was stuck in one place for more than five hours."

Mac chuckled. "I know what you mean. I was the same way." He sat down in his chair. "So I suppose I could consult with you on this."

For a second, I was taken aback. "On what?"

"This case. We're getting nowhere, and new eyes might be what we need." He slid the folder across the table to me. It was the case file for my professor.

"Are you sure?"

"Positive."

I took the file and opened it, but paused when something occurred to me. "So do you really want my opinion, or are you just trying to assess my skills?"

Mac chuckled. "You're quick. Maybe it's a little of both."

I smiled and looked through the file. My professor had been found dead in his apartment by his landlord. There weren't many signs of foul play, except a few bruises on his arms, though they weren't bad enough to be called defensive. The autopsy showed that he had been killed by blunt force trauma to the head, and there were signs of a picked lock and a robbery. The murder weapon hadn't been found.

"There was probably a robbery, but we can't find anything as far as a suspect. There was trace of latex on the handle of the door, so the robber was wearing gloves."

"So no prints?"

"Not one. We just don't know where to look."

I flipped through the pictures until I came to the bathroom. That made me stop and think for a second.

"Did you try and get prints from the bathroom sink or anything?"

Mac leaned over and looked at the photo. "I don't think we did," he said, a hint of curiosity in his voice. "You want to come back to the scene with Danny and me?"

Now I was even more shocked. "You're taking my suggestion? And you're taking me with you?"

Mac chuckled again. "Yes to both. It's a good thought, and it'd be good for you to get a little exposure to the scene if you're going to help."

My head was pretty much spinning. I had only been dreaming of this since I was ten. "Okay, I guess I'll go."

"Good. We'll be on our way in an hour. I'll have Danny -"

"Mac?"

Morgan looked back at the owner of the familiar accent. Danny stood in the doorway with a copy of the file in his hands.

"Hey Morgan," he said, smiling. "We haven't found anything. There wasn't any DNA on the vic, only more latex trace," he said, directing this at Mac.

"It's okay. Morgan had an idea. Did we collect or print anything from the bathroom?"

Danny thought for a second, then shook his head. "We didn't."

"Okay then. We're going back in a little bit. If you don't mind showing Morgan around, Danny, and maybe introducing her to a few people from the team, that'd be great. I just need to get a few things together."

"I can do that. Come on, Morgan."

I stood and left the room in a daze, Danny holding the door for me.

"Follow me." I went after Danny down the hallway. "You're going to see the lab pretty much on one side the entire time. The setup is where the lab is this huge chunk on the inside, and the offices and meeting rooms are on the outside. There are also more labs and stuff downstairs, like ballistics. I think it works well." He moved swiftly down the hall, glancing into the labs as he did so. "Hey, Stella!"

"Hey Danny," a woman called back from the lab. She had full curly hair and a fair face. "Who's this?"

"Um…this is Morgan. Morgan Taylor."

Stella raised her eyebrows. "Well, hello. It's about time we met you." She held out her hand for me to shake. I took it, and in that handshake, I could tell that she was one of the pretty women who were tougher than a nail. "I'm Stella."

"Morgan. So I'm assuming you know…"

"Yeah, Mac told me."

"Why'd he tell you, not me?" Danny whined.

"Danny, he -"

"Stella, I'm kidding," Danny chuckled. "I'm just showing Morgan around before we head out to a scene."

"Whoa, she's going to a scene?" Stella said, suddenly turning serious. Yup, I was right. Tough.

"Yeah. She's going to graduate with the same degree as we got, so don't worry about it."

Stella's face softened in understanding. "Oh. I get it now. Okay. I have to run, so I'll see you guys later. Nice to meet you, Morgan."

"You too," I said after her.

"She's a sweetheart, but she can be real harsh if you get in her way. I'd advise against it."

"Got it."

"Moving on," Danny said, going around a corner. I had to speed walk a few steps to catch up. Was this guy on caffeine or something?

"Hey, Messer," a different male voice called from the office next to us. "You still up to hoops later?"

I located the owner of the voice and nearly stopped dead in my tracks. Now, I wasn't involved very much (*cough* at all) romantically in high school, being that I was six years younger than everyone else around me. But I had definitely seen my fair share of attractive men. This guy was no exception. He was obviously a cop - as he pulled his suit jacket back and rested his hands on his hips, I saw the glint of a police shield on his belt. His shorter, slightly gelled hair was dark, like mine. He had strong, wide shoulders and his stance exuded complete confidence. The thing that hit me the most, though, was the intense ice blue of his eyes.

He turned to look at me and I looked away quickly. What the hell was I thinking, staring at him like that? Still, I snuck another glance back at him and he was still somewhat staring at me with a look I couldn't really read.

"Of course I am, Don. I'll beat the crap out of you like I did last week," Danny scoffed. Then he noticed the two of us staring at each other. "Oh, Don, this is Morgan Taylor. Long story short, she's related to Mac and she's pretty much done with her justice degree. Morgan, this is Don Flack, the muscle around here. He always plays the bad cop."

"Hey, not all the time," Don said. He leaned a little closer to me, placing a hand by his mouth as if to black Danny from hearing. "Don't listen to him. He's a bad influence."

"Ha, ha, Don. You're gonna get creamed tonight."

"Keep telling yourself that."

"You ready to go, Danny?" Mac said, suddenly behind us.

"Sure."

"Mac, I'm going to go on break. That okay?"

"Sure, Don." He glanced at me for a split second, then back at Don. "We're going down to the professor's scene. Radio your boys, just to let them know."

"Got it." Don stepped past me, laying a hand on my shoulder briefly as he did. "See you around, Morgan," he said. I nearly fainted.

"The car's out front," Mac said, leading us to the elevators. "So you met Don?"

"And Stella."

Mac smiled. "What did you think of her?"

"She's way cool. I like her."

Mac nodded. I hopped in the backseat of the car, Mac and Danny in front. The drive was short, and we pulled up to my professor's apartment in five minutes.

"Danny, you and I are going to print the bathroom. Sorry, Morgan, but we can't let you process anything. You can look around as much as you want," Mac said as we ducked under the crime tape. I didn't expect to be able to look for prints or DNA - I didn't have the degree or the job.

"I'll call you if we find anything."

"Thanks, Mac."


	6. 06

Mac and Danny made their way back to the bathroom, setting up their kits on the floor inside the doorframe.

"How'd it go with her?"

"Well, actually. I haven't talked to her about what's next, but I'm going to soon."

"I'd be eager to have her on the team, if that's what's going to happen," Danny said, looking carefully at the sink. "Cause I think she's onto something here." Danny powdered the spot and lifted a print, holding it up to the light to see it. "I've seen the vic's prints a thousand times, Mac, and these don't look like his."

Mac shook his head in amazement. "I think that once she graduates, she'll be the new addition to our team."

**Morgan**  
I wandered around my professor's apartment, re-enacting the crime in my head. The professor had been sitting in his house, maybe at his desk, minding his own business and probably playing classical music (he had loved Johannes Brahms). Maybe that's why he hadn't heard the lock being picked. Then the robber jumps in and panics because the owner of the place was actually home. He picks up whatever stupid thing he brought to defend himself and hits my professor across the head. Then he bails.

"Hey, Morgan, I think we've got something," Danny called.

I glanced at the cop that was guarding the door and made my way back to the bathroom. Danny held up the clear sheet with black powder between it and the white backing.

"Prints," I said, a sense of surprise in my voice.

"This was a great idea, Morgan."

My face started gong red again. "Thanks."

"I mean it. This may be our guy, right here."

"Signed, sealed, and convicted," Danny added.

I couldn't help but grin at that.


	7. 07

For the past week and a half, I had been going to the department after classes and hanging around, helping with paperwork and learning a few tricks of the trade. I had met three more members of the team: Lindsay Monroe, Sheldon Hawkes, and Adam Ross. It was easy to tell that Lindsay and Danny were involved, and I thought it was the cutest thing on the face of the earth. Sheldon was pretty quiet and came off a little shy. Adam, on the other hand, was jamming to The Chemical Brothers when Danny took me in to meet him in the lab.

I was sitting in the break room with Danny and Don, sipping on a Mountain Dew and daydreaming about Don when Danny asked when my graduation ceremony was.

"A week from tomorrow."

"But you pretty much graduated already, right?" Don asked.

"Yeah, Pretty much."

"Pass all of your finals?"

I rolled my eyes. "No, Danny. That's why I'm graduating."

"I was kidding, Morgan. But even though you abuse me, I'll be there."

I smiled. "Thanks, Danny."

"Hey, Morgan?" Mac said, taking a step inside the room. He had a knack for randomly appearing.

"What's up?"

"Can I talk to you?"

The mood in the room fell a little. I caught a look from Danny as I stood and followed Mac.

"Do you mind if we talk about what's going to happen after you graduate?"

I let out the breath I was holding as Mac and I entered his office. "Yeah, sure."

"I was hoping I could ask you this elsewhere, but you know we've been too busy around here for anything like that. Now, I know you have a place to live right now, but I just want you to know that I'm willing and ready for you if you…if you want to come and live with me."

I sat there for a second, contemplating. I had been basically solitary for my entire life, but maybe some change would do me good.

"I don't need an answer this second, if you're not ready." Mac cleared this throat. "The other thing was your job. You're qualified to work in a lot of places like this, but seeing as you're already here and you fit in perfectly, you're one of the first in line for a position here if you want it."

I raised my eyebrows and felt a smile growing on my face. I suppose I shouldn't have been that surprised, seeing as I had walked in on Danny and Lindsay talking about the same thing two days earlier. It still surprised me, though.

"You have no idea how perfect that is."

Mac smiled slightly, momentarily ignoring his beeping pager. "Fantastic. Two weeks out, and I can have you on the payroll."

I felt like I was high. The sense of accomplishment and pride was overwhelming.

"Damn," Mac said, looking at his pager. "I have to go. Sorry, Morgan."

"It's okay."

He stood and had almost left when I heard myself speak again.

"And Mac?"

"Yeah?"

"I…I want to come live with you."

Mac froze. It didn't even look like he was breathing. After a moment, another smile broke out on his face and he nodded once before leaving. It wasn't much of a response, but it was all that I needed.


	8. 08

The caps flew up in the air, and one solid cheer went up with them. It was official - I had a degree. I felt like I did that day in Mac's office, the day he offered me the job.

"Morgan!"

I turned to the sound of Mac's voice. Upon seeing him, I ran to his open arms. My father's hug felt perfect, enough so that I forgot about Danny standing behind him.

"Hey, kiddo, what about me?"

I let go of Mac. "Fine, Messer." Danny's hug was comfortable and he held me the perfect amount.

"I'm next," Don said as Danny and I stepped apart. "Congrats, Morgan."

I was a little surprised when Don took me in a hug. Danny and I had become close friends, but I didn't see Don nearly as much and I still had a little bit of a thing for him.

Okay, maybe it was more than a little.

I inhaled as Don pulled me against his chest – he smelled amazing. This hug was almost better than Danny's. He slowly let go, and I took the hint and did the same, my face burning once again.

"I have to head back. Sorry, Morgan."

"Don't worry about it. We'll take you out to lunch. You got time, Don?"

"Sure do."

"Okay. I trust you guys. I want her back at the station by 5."

"All right, all right, Mac. You got it. Hey, go get un-robed and such."

"I'll be back soon, boys.

"So what you're saying is that the Yankees aren't going to win it this year?" Don asked, a look of doubt on his face.

"No way. They'll go to the playoffs like they always do, but they'll choke around then."

"Okay," said Don, leaning forward and crossing his arms on the table. "Tell me why."

"They're getting too famous. Jeter is too fancy for his own good, and he's going to fail. A. Rod isn't going to get any titles this year, either."

"So who's going to get the A.L. Batting champ?"

"Mauer again. Ten bucks says he's going to get a Golden Glove, too."

"No way," Don scoffed. "Nuh uh. I'll take you up on that."

I held my hand out for him to shake. "You got it. Ten on Mauer for the A.L. Batting championship this year."

"I got anyone but Mauer."

"Hey," I pouted. "That's not fair. Danny, tell him that isn't fair."

"Hey, I'm not interfering," Danny said, putting his hands in the air. "This is entertaining."

"It is fair, because -"

Don was interrupted by the pager on Danny's belt.

"Oh, crap. Guys, I have to go. There's a new 419 out there. You got a car, Flack?"

"Yeah."

"Can I trust you two alone?" Danny said, his eyebrows raised suspiciously.

"Shut up and get out of here, Messer. You got a job to do."

Danny laughed. "Okay. Don, pick up the tab. I'll see you guys later."

Don shook his head. "He treats me as if I don't know what I'm doing."

"He's just a dork."

"I know that all too well."

We ate our food and debated on the new baseball season until it hit 4:30.

"Did you play when you were younger or something?"

"I did for a little while, but then school and boxing took up too much time. I wanted to keep going, though."

"You _box_?"

"Yup."

"No way."

I nodded. "Believe it, Don."

He shook his head. "You're full of surprises, Morgan, I'll give you that." He slipped a card inside the leather pocket of the tab. "Here. Why don't we go to a Yankees game next week? Your beloved Mauer's on the opposing team."

"Definitely." I responded smoothly, but my heart was pounding. Time alone with Don? Oh my God.

"I'll pick up the tickets. Think of it as sort of a graduation present," Don said as the waiter came back with his card.

"But you just -"

"Danny will pay me back for this, don't worry."

Why did he have to be so amazing? "Wow, Don. Thank you."

A lopsided smile crossed his face, and I about melted.

"All right. I should get you back to the station before your dad beats me up."

I laughed. "He's working his way up to the 'protective father' status."

"Trust me," Don said, his smile growing. "He's pretty much already there."

I rolled my eyes. "Great."


	9. 09

"These are awesome seats."

Don grinned. "I may have helped clear the guy who got me these from an arson charge."

"So you've got connections, huh, Don?"

"Sure do."

We were sitting basically on the first base dugout, a tiny bit on the home plate side of first base.

"So who's the other guy who plays for the Twins that's really good?"

"Justin Morneau, the first baseman. They also used to have the best center fielder in the league, but they couldn't keep him this year."

"I wonder why," Don said through a mouthful of his hot dog, completely sarcastic.

"Oh, shut up," I groaned, giving him a playful shove to the shoulder.

"Look, your boy is up to bat."

"He's not my boy. And watch, the pitcher's scared. He's thrown two balls on him already."

"There goes a strike."

"It was barely a strike, though. He would have had to foul it off."

"You making excuses now, Morgan?"

"Not at all," I smirked.

Mauer ended up walking. "Ha, Don. What about that?"

"Minor fluke," he scoffed.

"Now Morneau is going to hit it out of the park."

Don leaned forward in his seat. It was good to see him in something other than a suit, for once - today he was in jeans and a green polo. When he moved, I could see the muscles in his arms and back working. His hair was the same as it always was, though, and he still carried the same posture and air around him.

"There you go, Morgan," Don said, sitting back in his seat when Morneau struck out.

"Well, I never said he was a batting champion. He's one of the best first basemans out there, though."

"Let him prove it."

"He will, don't worry."

I was right. The Twins got all three outs in a row. As Morneau started off the field, he glanced at all of the fans reaching for the baseball in his hand. He examined all of us for a second, then looked straight at Don. He pointed, then tossed the ball. Everyone around us grumbled when Don caught it easily, with deft precision. He looked at it for a second, then handed it to me.

"Keep it," he said.

"Really?"

He nodded, the lopsided smile coming back. "Really. I've gotten one or two before. You can take this one."

I slowly took it from his hand, our fingers brushing briefly. "T-thanks."

"So when is your first shift?" he asked, as if nothing had happened. I could see, though, that there was a huge look of satisfaction on his face.

"Two days from now."

"I'm guessing you'll be following Mac around at first."

"Yeah, that's what he said."

"Good. If we get a more serious case, we'll be working together."


	10. 10

"It's a simple office building," Mac started, shutting off the car. "There was a report of a 419 on the second floor."

It was my first case, a homicide. I was doing all that I could to settle myself down, but wasn't succeeding at all. I was too worked up to about my first 419 for two reasons: One, I was actually going to work on a case and two, Don was going to be there to see it. Well, so were Lindsay and Mac, but the day at the baseball game (and lunch beforehand) had gotten me even more hooked on Don.

I pulled my kit out of the car and followed Mac to the tape. It was down the hallway that led to the stairwell, and the two cops looked apprehensive as we approached. They shouldn't have been - I was wearing my brand-new CSI: NY jacket halfway buttoned up over my black v-neck.

"Hey, guys," Don said as we advanced. "We've got a male D.B., about 30 years old. We're checking on his I.D. upstairs."

I looked quickly over the scene, noting every detail I saw. Lindsay was taking photos of the body and its position - face down on the floor, the neck bent at an angle. The body's left hand had two fingers that were sticking out at an odd angle - maybe defense wounds. There were no footprints or any real indication that anyone else had been there except us. There were gravitational blood drops on the concrete stairs, and they looked fresh.

Lindsay finished taking pictures and stood up. "I'm done. I think I'll go wait outside for Sid, if you don't mind, Mac."

"Look, right there," I said, pulling on a pair of gloves. "The drops of blood."

"Go ahead, Lindsay," Mac said. "We'll be up following the drops." He was just as stoic as he usually was, swabbing the first drop carefully to confirm it was blood. "You coming, Don?"

"Sure." Don was being almost totally professional…until he sent me a wink behind Mac's back. I giggled inwardly.

We climbed the stairs, following the drops until they went through a door another two floors up. The drops went into a hallway and, from there, a supply closet.

"You sure you're not going to fall over?" I asked Mac, who was balancing on a ladder and about to open the ceiling.

"I'm okay, Morgan. I promise."

"Sarcasm, Mac," said Don from the doorway. "Seems like she's got some."

Mac responded by ignoring us and lifting up a panel of the ceiling. He poked around for a second before completely freezing.

"Jesus Christ."

The way he said those two words made my stomach fall to my feet.

"There's a bomb. Get everyone out of here. Now," Mac said, almost sounding calm.

Don immediately grabbed my arm and pulled me from the room. I heard the ladder clattered to the floor and Mac was rushing past us, throwing open doors and yelling.

"Get out of here, Morgan," Don said. There wasn't a harsh tone to his voice, but a worried one.

"Don -"

"No, Morgan," he said sternly.

"Don, I can help."

"I know you can, but I don't want you hurt."

I barely realized that he had taken a step closer to me and that his hand had moved to my shoulder.

"Then what are you and Mac doing in here?" I retorted.

"You need to go."

"I'm not going to leave you -"

He cut me off the way I least expected – he kissed me. It was brief, but it was the best brief moment of my life.

"Please, Morgan." He was almost pleading now, something completely uncharacteristic.

It was then that I reacted, nodding shortly at Don and taking off the way we had come. Mac was shouting after me, saying the same thing Don had: "Get out of here, Morgan! Down the stairs!" I kept listening for the footsteps of Don and Mac behind me, but I never heard them.

I was twenty feet from the building when the bomb detonated.


	11. 11

**A/N: Now that I'm finally getting the hang of this place…Hey, guys! Thank you soooo much for the feedback - it's awesome. I didn't know this story would be this popular (by my standards anyways). Sorry about the mix-up between Peyton and Claire a few chapters back. I was thinking Claire, typed Peyton…ugh, Mac and his women :P Anyway, it's fix'd. Enjoy!**

I just lay on the ground for a moment, trying to put off the burning pain in my shoulder. I had landed on it after flying a good 5 or 6 feet through the air from the shock of the blast. I rolled over, a few small chunks of concrete falling from my back.

"Morgan!" Lindsay yelled. Suddenly she was kneeling beside me, and I saw that she had a big gash in her forehead.

"Lindsay…" I groaned, sitting up. "They're inside. Mac and Don are inside."

"I know, Morgan. The squad is on its way. We need to get you taken care of. There's an ambulance back here. Come on." She hoisted me up with my good arm. Looking down at my left shoulder, I saw blood – lots of it. There was a massive road rash on the top of my shoulder and part of my shoulder blade. I gritted my teeth against the pain.

"Lindsay!" Danny ran up to us, his kit in hand. "Thank God you guys are okay." He kissed Lindsay gently on the cheek and gave me a sort of side-hug, avoiding my left side. "I'm in charge of finding Mac and Don. I'll keep you updated." He took off toward the building, following the bomb squad.

Lindsay sat me down on the back of the ambulance and grabbed some gauze, pressing it to my shoulder. I jumped.

"Don't take care of me," I tried to reason. "You need to get your forehead looked at."

"Morgan, are you okay?"

"Does it_ look_ like I'm -"

"Not like that."

I suppose my distress was obvious – when Lindsay pressed the gauze to my shoulder, one tear fell from my eye and I put my head in my free hand.

"It's just…I just found Mac, and who knows what's happened to him in there. And then there's Don…"I trailed off, an my hand fell from my head to brush lightly against my lips.

"Don?" Lindsay sat on the back of the ambulance next to me. "What about him?"

"Well," I said, glancing around. Everyone else seemed busy with other things, not listening to our conversation. "I've kind of had this …thing for him and then in there, he kissed me. I don't know why."

Lindsay glanced around as well, probably for the same reason I had. "I'm not going to interfere with any of that, but I think Don's a great guy."

"But what if it was just to get me to leave the building? What if he didn't mean anything -"

"We've found them!" Danny shouted from the doorway to the building. "We've on our way to them!"

I jumped off the ambulance and raced after Danny, grimacing as the gauze that had been stuck to my shoulder ripped away.

"I don't care if you're in here, Morgan, but get that covered up. There's too much dust in here," Danny said, running up the stairs two at a time. I took my jacket off and slung it over my shoulder, tying the sleeves under the opposite armpit. As we were running, I heard a crackling voice coming over Danny's radio: "We've got them."

I started taking the stairs by three for the last flight until we reached the group of firemen.

"Morgan!"

Mac suddenly had me, bringing me in for a tight hug.

"Christ, Morgan, I was so scared you didn't make it," he said into my hair.

"That _I_ didn't make it?" I almost laughed. "Oh, Dad, you have no idea." After a moment, I realized that I had just called him 'Dad' for the first time.

But there was something wrong. "Dad, where's Don?"

Mac went even paler than he was. "We need to get you back out to the EMTs."

"No, where's Don? What happened to him?" I asked, my voice rising with every word.

"Downstairs, Morgan. Now," Mac grunted, nearly lifting me up and steering me to the stair well. Two EMTs ran past us with a stretcher.

"Don!" I yelled, voice panicky. "No, Don!"

"He'll be okay, Morgan." Mac was almost pushing me down the stairs now. "Go."

"But…but Don -"

"He'll be okay, Morgan," Mac repeated.

But somehow I didn't believe him.


	12. 12

Coma. The word is dismal and cold, even when it's not affecting you directly. Mac had me stay in a hospital room and get my shoulder disinfected while they assessed and worked on Don. Mac had save his life by tying off a ruptured and exposed vein with a shoelace, but when my father came in to tell me that Don was in a coma, I nearly went into one myself.

"Do they know anything about when he might wake up?"

"Not yet. What did they give you for medication?"

"Vicodin."

"Okay. I want you to stay with me from now on. Is that all right?"

I winced as a nurse pressed a bandage on my shoulder. "Yeah, sure."

"One more thing," he said, reaching into his pocket. "It's finished."

My shield was in the hand he held out to me, a shining blue and gold with "NYPD: M. Taylor" printed on the bottom. I slowly took it with my free hand, staring at it.

"Congratulations, Morgan."

**The Hospital Room**  
We had been keeping shifts in Don's room, waiting for him to wake up. There was usually someone in there most of the 24 hours in the day. Mac had pretty much made me take a 3-day leave of injury, and while everyone else was working, I was sitting in the (gross) hospital chair in Don's company.

For a little while, I watched the monitor that tracked Don's heart rate. It stayed steady at 84 bpms, a good rate for a healthy man in a coma. Since it was staying level, the monitor got a little boring. I eventually fell to looking at my new shield, running my thumb over the name again and again.

"Liking that shield, Morgan?"

I jumped at the cracked voice coming from the bed. Once I realized he was awake, I was beside Don instantly.

"Boy. I don't sound good, do I?"

I smiled. "Not at all."

"You weren't supposed to answer that."

"Too bad. You feeling any better?" I was surprised I was able to stay that clam. Don had just woken up from a coma and I was asking him if he felt better.

"I'm okay." He ran his fingers over his stomach where the entire cavity was exposed, where the vein had been cut.

"Don, I need to ask you something."

"Yeah?"

"In the building…before I left. I want to know if what you did actually meant anything."

Don looked at me right in the eyes. A shiver ran down my spine, and not in a bad way.

"I meant it all."

I just stared, not really able to believe it. I was still trying to get over the fact that I was finally a member of the NYPD, and then this comes along (not that I wasn't grateful).

"I meant it, Morgan. I don't know what it is about you, but I can't stop thinking about you, ever since I saw you in that office walking around with Danny. I don't know if this is going too fast or what you think, but I'm willing to give the idea of _us_ a shot."

To be blunt, I was stunned. I tried to say something, but couldn't. Don apparently took that a different way I intended him to and his facial expression started to change to something like hurt.

"Um, sorry, Morgan. I didn't mean to scare you or anything like that."

"No, Don. Don't jump to conclusions."

"Huh?"

"I never said no."

His face lit up, like a kid's would if I had offered him a cookie. "Really?"

"Y-yeah." I couldn't believe I was doing this. It was illegal according to his position in the Department against mine (something about if one person can have influence over the other's career). I, though, didn't care very much.

Don abruptly sat up in his bed and ran his hand briefly over my cheek before kissing me. I kissed him back, giggling a little. "Don, lean back," I mumbled into his mouth. I followed as he did so, leaning over him with one hand on either side of the bed.

"Ahem."

I jumped back, hoping to God it wasn't Mac. It was only the nurse.

"If you don't mind, Mr. Flack, now that you're awake I'd like to run a few tests."

"I'll see you later, Don," I said, my right hand drifting to the back of my neck.

"Morgan?"

"Yeah?" I said form the doorway.

Don waited for the nurse to turn her back, then held a finger up to his lips.

I nodded. "Definitely." Before I left, I glanced at the heart rate monitor - Don's pulse was racing.


	13. 13

**A/N: Okay, so there have been a few people who've been a little skeptical about the idea of Don/Morgan. This is what this story is for: to push limits and go places that other people wouldn't. If you don't like it, then that's your deal. I'm not forcing you to read this. Just know that it'll stay this way, and Don and Morgan are going to get closer.**

***Ahem* For those of you who I have left after that…enjoy**

"Welcome back, Morgan."

"Thanks, Stella. What is there to work on?"

"Well, while you were gone, we solved the bomb case. The guy's going up for a bunch of charges, mostly offenses against officers. The other DB was practically impossible to work on, being that it was partially incinerated in the blast. We were told to drop it. I'm almost done with the paperwork for that."

"Oh boy. Paperwork."

"You have to do it sometime. Oh, speaking of, I need you to fill out an incident report."

"Great. My first incident report is three days into my career."

Stella shuffled through a few papers and handed me a sheet. "Fill this out and give it to Mac. Make it legible, because they'll probably use it in court."

"Okay. See you later then, Stella."

As I left the room, my phone vibrated in my pocket with a new message.

_Come down and fill out your incident report with me. I'm bored with desk work_.

I chuckled at Don's message and headed to the elevator.

_On my way._

"Hey, Morgan."

"Oh, hey, Lindsay," I greeted her as she fell into step with me.

"Is your shoulder feeling better?"

"A little. The Vicodin is helping."

"I would hope so." She paused pressing the button for her floor. "What about Don?"

I glanced at her, not really knowing what to say. Was I supposed to tell her? I trusted her, but if she felt it was her obligation to let Mac know, Don and I were in trouble.

"It's okay, Morgan," she said before I could reply. "I won't tell anyone if there is something."

"There's something, then," I said. "We're going to keep it quiet."

"I don't blame you. Danny and I got together and it was suddenly like the whole force knew."

"Exactly. And people probably wouldn't approve, especially around here."

Lindsay looked confused for a second. "Wouldn't approve…? Oh, yeah. I keep forgetting that you're only 16."

"That's maybe a good thing."

"I won't tell anyone."

I pointed my finger at her. "You better," I tried to threaten, but giggled at the face she gave me.

"Yeah, _that's_ scary," she scoffed. "I'll see you later," she said when the door opened for her floor. "Have fun with your incident report."

I rolled my eyes. "Thanks a ton, Lindsay."

The elevator finally reached the main floor and I went searching for Don's desk. It wasn't terribly hard to find – it was the only one without a flurry of activity around it.

"Wow," I mused at the neat desk were Don sat. "You a clean freak, Don?"

"No. I just don't have anything better to do," Don yawned. "Let's get these filled out."

There was a spot on the incident report for the sender, recipient, subject, and the incident itself. "So I'm sending this to Mac, right?"

"Yeah. Mine goes to my chief, yours goes to Mac."

"What are you putting for the subject?"

"Um…The Building Explosion?"

I looked up at him. "You seem exhausted."

"I am."

"You don't have an excuse. You were out for six days straight."

"Hey, I wasn't sleeping. It was a coma."

"You making excuses now, Don?"

"Oh, ouch. Using my line? That one hurts."

"You walked right into it."

He shrugged. "Maybe. Maybe not. Want to go out to lunch later?"

"Subject changer. Sure."

**In The Lab**  
"You guys are adorable together."

My head snapped up to look at Danny. We were running a few things through typing in the lab, and when Danny said that, I nearly dropped the vial I was holding. "How did you -"

"I saw you guys at lunch yesterday. It was cute."

"Danny Messer thinks something is cute?"

"I've got a soft side. Don't worry about it."

"Uh huh," I scoffed.

The machine next to us beeped, making Danny jump a little. "Boom. Look at that."

"What is it?"

"Printer ink. Why was printer ink on the victim's fingers?"

"You're asking me?"

"I dunno. You want to take it and find the brand? It'll get done faster that way."

"I'm on it. I am better than you at that, aren't I?"

"See? I give you a compliment and you shoot me down. Why are you so mean to me?" Danny groaned.

"Suck it up, Messer," I joked, sitting down at the computer.

"So Flack took you to the Yankees game before the building went out?"

I looked up at Danny, a little confused. "Don didn't tell you?"

"He told me that you two went, but Flack isn't a Twins fan. At all."

"Oh…so he took me to a game he didn't even want to go to?"

"Don't get me wrong, he loves baseball. But you know there's the whole rivalry thing between us and Minnesota."

I had been so focused on Don that I forgot: all New Yorkers hated Minnesota Twins fans. "Oh, yeah."

"He didn't say anything bad about it, though. He even said he was a little jealous of Mauer because you admired him so much. Don't tell him I said that, though."

I felt my cheeks flush a little. "Did he?"

"He also told me about the baseball," Danny said, a little slyly.

I grinned. "Yeah. It's up on my shelf at home. I toss it to myself when I'm trying to get to sleep."

"Aww, that's adorable," Danny practically squealed, clasping his hands and bouncing on the spot.

"And you say I give you crap. I have to make a call to the company, just to make sure about this compound."

"You do that. Come meet me back here when you've found it, and we can present the facts to Mac."

"You got it."

"Hey, Morgan," Danny called after me. "You've already got one hell of a dedicated guy. You're the lucky one."

I grinned, my face flushing a little. "I know, Messer."


	14. 14

"You want to take a turn on it?"

My eyes widened. "Danny, I can barely drive a car, let alone this."

"Don managed to drive it okay. If he can, then I don't know -"

"Stop talk, Messer, if you know what's good for you," Don said before Danny could finish, glancing at the motorcycle parked in the street.

"How about not," Mac suggested as he came out of the department to stand next to us.

"How did you even know what we were talking about?"

"Saw the motorcycle, you holding the keys, and the look on Morgan's face. They told me all I needed to know," Mac said smoothly.

Danny chuckled.

"Told you," Don whispered, leaning down so I could hear. "Protective father."

"We ready to go?" asked Stella, coming out of the building with Lindsay shortly after Mac.

Lindsay swung her leg over the motorcycle's back seat, looking expectantly at Danny. "You coming?"

"Boom," Danny said lowly, just so Don and I could hear. Don started laughing, and Danny got on the bike in front of Lindsay. "Where to?"

"There's a newer place down past Broadway," Stella suggested.

"Oh, that new pub? Sounds good."

For a second, I debated following Don to his car, but then I looked at Mac, and his gaze was almost expectant when he looked at me. I went with Mac, sending a look to Don. He nodded and got in his car. After a minute of silent driving, Mac cleared his throat.

"Morgan, you know Don is 26, right?"

Oh crap. "Yeah."

"That's ten years. Anything…between you would be illegal."

_Gotta cover us._ "I know, Dad. He's just a friend, like Danny."

Mac glanced away from the road for a second to look at me. "I want it to stay that way."

"That's fine." My heart was pounding, making my nearly healed shoulder throb at a little, but I was dong my best to hide it. There was no way Mac could have found out. No way.

"Okay."

I silently let out a breath. I was happy with the silence that followed until we got to the pub. I hurried out of the car while sending Don a text: _Mac's suspicious. Be careful._

_Okay_, he sent back as he pulled up behind us.

"No beer, Morgan," Mac joked as we got out of the car. It was probably an attempt to lighten the mood, and it may have worked a little. Not a lot, though.

"Got it, Dad."

Don sent me a small nod as he opened the door to the pub for me. I was honestly scared to death of what Mac thought. He was okay with Danny and Lindsay being in a relationship, but the idea of Don and me was different.

I looked back to see Mac eyeing Don in the most untrusting way I'd ever seen. How the hell were we going to get through this?

"I guess we'll have to see," I mumbled to myself.

"What's that?" Stella asked.

"Oh, nothing," I lied. "Where's the menu?"


	15. 15

"They're not going to make you appear in court."

"Why not? I'm the one who worked the case, and I'm the one who broke it, too. I should at least be allowed to tell a jury what I found."

"We know you did, and they might even know you did, but they don't want a sixteen year old up on the stand."

I threw my hands up in the air in exasperation. "So what if I'm sixteen? The government let me get the job in the first place, why can't they let me do it to the full extent? I want to be there when the guy we caught goes down because of the evidence I found and the confession I got from him!"

"Morgan, they were skeptical of me letting you even handle that questioning."

I looked my father in the eye. "It's been six months since I got this job. The rest of the team gets to go up on the stand all the time. Why not me?"

"Because you'll get fired if you do, and I'll be in serious consideration if I let you. This isn't only about you. If I let you, you'll be fired. Then they'll look to me and think, He only let her up there because she's his daughter. They'll have me watched under special treatment."

"Nothing would happen to you. You're like Don, you do everything by the book."

"That's another thing. You've been spending a lot of time out with him and Danny lately."

There was a sudden sinking feeling in my stomach when he said that. "What's your point?"

"That it's too much."

"Dad, I'm not a student anymore. I have a steady job. What do I need to do? Study? I've got the cases that I have under control. Don't worry."

He shook his head. This was probably one of the first father/daughter fights he'd ever had to go through. Well, it was one of the first for me, too. "Morgan, you're still sixteen. I'm going to have Lindsay keep an eye on you while I'm in Boston this weekend."

Boston? Oh, yeah. He was going to Boston for a conference. "I don't need to be watched."

"Still. I don't feel comfortable with you staying here alone without someone knowing."

"The entire team knows you're leaving."

"I don't want you staying out late and -"

"And what? I'm not a party animal or anything. I never got to do that, remember?"

He glanced over at me, a semi-apologetic look on his face. "Sorry. I just don't want anything to happen."

"Nothing will happen, I promise. I'll go to work, then come home. I'll call you if I have overtime, and I'll have Lindsay check in with you about me." I had learned exactly what to say to my dad to console him.

He eyed me a little suspiciously, then headed into his room. "Okay. I'm getting back on Monday, and you're calling me three times a day until I get home."

"Whoa, three times?"

"All right, two."

I rejoiced in my mind. I have, as of yet, been one of the few people able to break Mac's will. "You got it, Dad." I paused, then rolled my eyes at having said the same thing Danny and Don say about five times a day.

"You sound like Danny."

"I know. I won't do it again, trust me."

I heard him chuckle from the hallway before he came out into the entryway with his small suitcase and a garment bag.

"Have fun in Massachusetts."

"I'll try. Twice a day, remember." He gave me a tight hug, then walked out the door.

**After Work  
**"Morgan, hold up."

"About time you caught up to me," I said as Don fell in stride with me around the corner of the Department.

"Hush," he said, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. "What are you doing tonight?"

"Staying under the strict watch of my father. Other than that, nothing."

"I'm taking you out tonight. You know we've never been on a real, proper date?"

I could feel myself going red, just a tiny bit. It's true - in the almost six months we'd been dating, we hadn't. "Okay, so what do you have planned?"

"It's a secret. I'm picking you up at 6, though."

"I don't have a choice in the matter?"

"Of course not." He kissed the top of my head gently. "But you're going to have to dress nice."

"Now I want to know what's going on."

"I can't tell you that. I'd have to kill you, and then I couldn't take you out."

"Oh, my. We can't let that happen."

"Come on, I'll take you home so you can check in with Mac."

"Ugh. I'm waiting for him to randomly come back and say, 'I was just testing you! You failed!' "

"I wouldn't be surprised at all."

"What, that my dad would come back early or that I'd failed?"

"Hmm…" Don said, stroking his chin in thought. I poked him in the side and he jumped away form me.

"What would Danny ever do if he found out you were ticklish?"

"Don't you dare!"

"Ha. I have blackmail now," I teased.

"Maybe I should just let you walk home."

"You wouldn't do that," I scoffed, looking up at him.

"Of course not. I couldn't do that." We got to where his car was parked and he opened the door for me. I had noticed that Don was actually semi-chivalrous, despite what the normal person may think.

"I'll be back in an hour and a half. I just have to get a few things sorted out," Don said as he pulled up in front of the flat that Mac and I lived in.

"I'll be ready."


	16. 16

"What should I wear?" I called to the phone that was on my bed.

"Where's he taking you?"

"I don't know. That's the thing. He just said dress nice."

"I think you should surprise him. Be extra super sexy or something," Lindsay said with a matter-of-fact tone to her voice. "I did that with Danny, and look where we are."

"You guys are adorable, I know. I just don't have that much clothing like that."

"What do you have?"

"I do have this nice pair of black pants that I don't even wear to work."

"Those are good. And?"

"Well…" I said, shuffling through my closet. "There's…hold on…"

"This is what happens when you get a teenage forensics specialist going on a date," Danny called from the background. "You don't know where you're going, are you?"

"No. Do you?"

"I do."

"You jerk, tell me!" He didn't respond. "He's sticking his tongue out at me, isn't he?" I asked Lindsay.

"Of course he is."

"Wait…idea. I've got it." I opened one of my drawers and dug through it. "How can it be this hard to find a pair of leggings?" I grumbled.

"With what?" Lindsay asked.

"Aha. There they are." I tossed the black leggings on my bed. "I was thinking with the racerback tunic thing…it's warm enough for that, right? And it's a dress-up type thing."

"Yeah. Wait…the one we got at VS? The purple one?"

"Yes, that one."

"What's VS?" Danny asked. Lindsay and I just laughed.

"Oh…ohh, I know what VS is. Wow, Morgan, you're taking a step forward. Don'll be glad to hear that."

"No! Danny, don't tell him that I went shopping there!"

"I won't, I won't."

"What shoes?" Lindsay asked.

"Probably those low black heels that I have. And never wear."

"Don is going to be drooling over you. I want to be able to see this. You're leaving your hair down, right?"

"Of course. I have it up in a ponytail all the time. Now is the only chance -"

I was cut off by the doorbell ringing.

"He's early! What in the world have you done to him?" Danny cried.

"Shush, Danny!" I hissed, pulling my shoe on. "See you guys later." I shut my phone, grabbed my purse, and raced to the door. Don was standing on the other side, leaning on the doorframe and dressed in a more formal suit than normal. Once the door opened, he stood up straight and looked at me, only to be caught staring.

"W-wow, Morgan."

"Is this nice enough?" I asked hopefully. It was almost the only nice thing I had that didn't qualify as 'work clothes.'

"It's fantastic." He cleared his throat. "Shall we?"

**After Dinner  
**"So can I know where we're going now?" I asked after Don had taken me out to an amazing Italian dinner.

"Nope. Do you mind if I park a few blocks away? There aren't spaces where we're going."

"No…" I said. Already, I was starting to think of places that didn't have a parking area next to it that Don could be taking me to. I couldn't help it. I mean, I'm a _detective_. I'm supposed to think through things like that.

"So I'm not going to get you to tell me?"

"Nuh uh." Don pulled into a spot and shut the car off. "You won't know until we get there."

"Do you think people are going to be suspicious? Like, do I look old enough?"

"Are you kidding? You look perfect. And older than 18. No one will be suspicious of anything." He smiled lopsidedly as we got out of the car.

After a few minutes of walking, I realized we were in the thick of New York City, on the middle of Broadway. We were literally right underneath the huge, lit-up sign for Wicked. That meant we were directly in front of the theater.

"Come on," Don coaxed, taking my hand and breaking my trance. "Almost there." But where he took me wasn't further down the street, it was into the theater.

"Don Flack," he said at the ticketing window, pulling out his credit card. I was in complete shock.

"The Spring Awakening at 8:00?" the clerk asked.

"Yep."

"Have fun, guys," he said and smiled, handing two tickets over.

"_Spring Awakening_?" I gasped. "THE Spring Awakening? Like, won 11 Tony awards Spring Awakening? How did you know?"

"I thought you'd like it." Don had a look of triumph on his face. It was a truly priceless look. "Besides, it's the soundtrack that you listen to all the time when you're processing." Don looked at me and grinned, chuckling a little. "You weren't expecting this, were you?"

"Not at all."

He glanced at his watch. "Let's head in, we've got fifteen minutes until curtain." He took my hand again, and led me into the theater.

"Wait…is that why you borrowed the soundtrack from me?"

"Well, yeah. I figured I'd get familiar with it before I took you to it."

"How did I not realize?" I groaned.

"I don't know," he laughed.

"What are you laughing at?"

"You're too cute," he said, kissing me softly. This time, I _really_ blushed.


	17. 17

**A/N: Gah, all of the feedback has been awesome! Thank you guys so much!  
****Anyway, this is the chapter that may bug some people. This event has a lot to do with what happens later in the story (and not in the way you may think). So there's a reason for it. Just letting you know. **

"God, that was the most amazing thing I've ever seen!" I cried as we were walking back to Don's car.

"I'm still trying to get over the fact that they just had sex on stage."

"Psh," I scoffed. "They did that all the time in 19th-century Germany."

"Did they?" asked Don, sounding completely serious.

"Of course not."

Don shook his head. "I knew that, I was just being sarcastic."

"Right."

"Hey, do you want that soundtrack back? We can stop by my place and grab it on the way back."

"Sure."

**The Stop**  
I stepped out of the car into the gorgeous early September night, watching Don run into the building. I looked up, wishing the stars were more visible in this part of town. The streetlights, though, weren't going to let me pick out constellations.

"I'm back," Don huffed a moment later. "Here." He handed me the CD case, but kept looking at my face.

"What?"

"You're just so goddamn beautiful," he whispered, brushing his nose against mine. My cheeks burned red, like they always did when he said something like that.

After another moment of staring, he leaned down and kissed me. It was more urgent than it had been before, and it deepened when he pulled my body against his. Something totally new sent a flush of heat straight through my stomach, and I gasped just the tiniest bit.

Don pulled back then and looked at me, almost curious. "Too fast. I'm sorry."

"No, Don." I didn't want to stop. I had only just gotten that little taste, a mere preview of what I could have. I wasn't ready to stop. "Not too fast."

He raised his eyebrows and lessened some of the pressure between us (it was then that I realized I was pinned up against a sleek, black car by a sexy detective - can anyone say fantasy?). "Seriously?"

I answered him just by kissing him again, with the same intensity as before. After another long moment we broke apart.

"Just promise," he said, a little out of breath. "Promise that if you're ever uncomfortable, tell me to stop."

"Promise."

**Making a Decision**  
Yeah, I had learned about sex in school. It was intensely awkward, though - my junior year, in my health class, I was eleven. I hadn't even gotten my period yet, and most of the kids sitting around me had at least made out with someone else. At the _very_ least.

Don took me up to his apartment. I'll admit I was scared. But I've never trusted anyone as much as I've trusted Don, and if anyone was going to be the person to be my first, it was him. I fully realized what was going to happen when we landed on his bed, both of us nearly bare. I was staring up into his eyes and he was asking the silent question: Did I really want to do this? One of the biggest steps in our relationship, and I was the one he looked towards to decide it. Really, though, both of us decided - we both knew it was a step we wanted to take.


	18. 18

Even a while after the whole thing was over, while I was curled up into Don's chest, I was still breathing harder than I should have been. Nothing had exhausted me more than sex with Don just had. Nothing. And I'm a boxer. That's honestly saying something.

I debated on looking at the clock, but was a little scared to. Instead, I cuddled into Don a little more, keeping the sheet tucked over my chest. The hand Don had on my hip pulled me closer.

"Hey, Morgan?" Don said, almost groggily. "What time is it?"

"I dunno," I responded with the same tone he had.

"Damnit," he groaned. "You probably should have been home hours ago."

"Probably." I didn't move.

He propped his head up on his elbow. "I have to get you home."

I made a grumpy face at him and got up to find my clothes (oh boy, never thought I'd say that…), taking the sheet with me. They were kind of scattered.

"Don't get me wrong," Don mumbled, stepping up behind me and holding me against him. "I want you to stay."

"Do you know how many people would fight each other just to kill you for saying that?"

He chuckled into my neck. "My point exactly."

**Back at Home  
**"Well, that could probably be entered in a contest for longest kiss ever," I mused to the empty flat. I fumbled my phone out of my pocket ad opened a new text message.

_When you and Danny are done in bed, he said he loved me. I'm in shock, Linds. First Broadway, then love. Like a fairy tale. 'Night._

I hit send, and while the message sped off to wherever Lindsay was, I locked the door behind me, plugged my iPod in and turned on Pretty. Odd. on shuffle before getting in the shower. A brief 5 minutes and I was done, too tired to pull off anything other than a rinse.

I climbed into bed and quickly slipped into a semi-conscious state. I was half-thinking about how I never would have expected my life to turn out this way, and so suddenly. Never in a million years would I get the dream job and the dream man that I had, not to mention a father and a bunch of best friends.

It was when I heard the small creak to my back that every muscle in my body froze and my brain started to drag itself back up to speed. Too late, I felt something thin stab into my back: a needle. My muscles went lax and my breathing turned shallow. The panic alarm, the one that had been set in by my training as a detective, was going off ten-fold, but I was paralyzed. I couldn't even scream when a pair of arms lifted me up and slung me over a shoulder that smelled strongly of body odor. My nose hit the person carrying me repeatedly, and the pain made my mental state even worse.

Another piercing feeling pricked my back, and as my kidnapper slammed my apartment door behind us, I blacked out.


	19. 19

"Have you heard from her?"

"No, I thought you would have, Mr. _I Love You_."

"Yeah, yeah, I said it. I meant it too, Messer. Quit poking fun. This is serious. If Mac doesn't hear from her, it's our hides he's taking."

"I got it, Flack. We'll take a trip over there. It'll take ten minutes. She probably just slept through her alarm. Did the play go late?"

Don cleared his throat. "Well, yeah, but she got back to her place a little later than that."

Danny's jaw dropped. "No way."

"Look, let's just go get her."

The car ride was pretty silent, until they got a block or so away from Mac and Morgan's flat.

"I'm not ashamed that it happened," Don said, mostly to himself but loud enough that Danny could hear. "It was perfect. People just think it's a bad idea because she's 16. If you really look at it, though, she's not 16 in every other aspect than the number she got stuck with."

"I know she is. I'm not gonna hold anything against you." Danny kept his eyes on the road, so Don couldn't read into what he was saying. "It just surprised me a little. You always do everything by the book." He paused. "If anyone ever asks, I didn't know."

"I know."

Danny shut the car off and the two went up to the flat. Don knocked on the door, but when Morgan didn't respond, he called in to her.

"Morgan? You there? Wake up, hon," he called, still knocking. She still didn't answer, and he checked the door handle.

"It's unlocked."

"She's more careful than that."

Don flew into the flat, his gun drawn.

"Don, hold up, we should call -"

"Morgan?" Don shouted, ignoring Danny. He cleared the kitchen, Mac's room, and the living room, finally moving on to Morgan's room.

"Don, stop!" Danny yelled. He didn't have to, though - Don had frozen when he saw the empty needle on the floor beside Morgan's bed.

"Danny, she's gone."

"Don't touch anything, Don. I'm calling the team. All of them are going to be on this case."

Don leaned almost helplessly against the wall in Morgan's room, his gaze flickering from the needle to the pillow on her bed to the baseball on her shelf.

**Another Place, Another Time**

It was dark. Way too dark for me to be late to work…but what if I had shut my curtains? Oh, no. Dad and Stella were going to kill me.

I sat bolt upright, but when I opened my eyes, I remembered I wasn't in my room. I wasn't anywhere near my house. Fear rose like bile in my throat.

What the hell was I going to do?


	20. 20

"So we've got the syringe that the kidnapper used. We're working on getting DNA off of the handle." Stella was practically speedwalking through the lab to her office, the phone glued to her ear.

"You've proved that it was used on Morgan?" Mac asked, his voice rough.

"Yes. Her DNA was on the needle, while we're still trying to recover prints and such off of the handle," Stella repeated. "You just drive, Mac. We'll keep working until you get here."

"Promise me, Stella."

"I swear to God, Mac. We're doing everything."

"Okay. Get Flack on him as soon as possible, even if I'm not there."

"Of course." Stella hung up the phone and kept walking, falling into step with Danny on the way. "Have anything new?"

"We've almost got the guy. Adam got a print and some DNA, so I'm going to analyze them right now."

"Good. Hey, keep it up. Some of us are taking this really hard, and you're toughing it out. Thanks, Danny."

He nodded, taking a deep breath. "I'm trying."

"Do you know why Don had to leave when we were investigating?"

Danny paused. "He's taking it kind of personally, since he came up with the idea of going to get her. He needed to be away from it for a bit."

"Got it. I need him back here once we get an ID, though. He needs to bring this guy in as soon as we can."

Stella walked even faster into her office, leaving Danny behind. Danny pulled out his cell phone and opened a new text message.

_Ten minutes and we'll have the guy. You need to be here to get him, Stella wants it to be you. See you soon._

**On Lockdown  
**All I had was just a big, concrete room. It was almost like the interrogation room we had, but less comforting. There wasn't any furniture, and all I could do was huddle in the corner and hope that my kidnapper didn't come to visit. It was cold, and all I was wearing was the tank top and shorts I'd worn for pajamas. My back hurt from the drugs my kidnapper gave me, as well as the injection sites.

I pulled my knees up to my chest and put my head in my hands. I can't believe I had let this happen. It was my fault for not being more careful after I got home. I had been so caught up in the moment that I had let my instincts fall. The guy had probably gotten in while I was in the shower or been in the flat the entire time. Now he knew who I was, where Mac and I lived, and may have even been watching the place since he took me. That would mean he knew about Don and Danny and Lindsay…

I let out one sob, the first sound I'd made since I woke up. I hated to admit it, but I was scared senseless. The team probably had no clue as to where I was, and I had no idea if I was going to be found before…before my kidnapper killed me.

"Oh God," I groaned. "Don't let him kill me. Please, not now. Not after I just started living." I sniffed, unwillingly inhaling the stench of some already disgusting food gone rotten. I felt the tears start to roll, but suppressed my sporadic breathing. For some reason, I felt like I couldn't make a sound, or he would come barging in and I would be dead before I even had the chance to scream.


	21. 21

This is why Mac hired the people he did - they made him realize the meaning of "well-oiled machine." Stella had control because of Mac's conflict of interest and she had the rest of the team working perfectly. Lindsay and Sheldon had collected all of the evidence they possibly could, Adam had gotten everything off of that evidence, and now Danny and Flack were going to get the guy who had the needle in his hand, all in 12 hours.

And all Mac could do was sit in his office.

**The House  
**I was starving. I hadn't eaten since Don had taken me out to dinner, and who knows how long ago that was? It felt like days since I had been in this stupid concrete room (without a mattress or blanket, may I add). I should have expected less-than-adequate accommodations, though - I had been kidnapped. What else was going to happen?

I was sitting facing the wall, tracing a crack with the tip of my finger when a kick hit the door from the outside. I panicked for a moment, screaming and falling to the side in an attempt to scoot back into the corner. I was officially terrified.

"You," a gruff voice called. "I'll get around to you in a few minutes, once I get rid of your pals."

My pals? My _pals_?

Oh no.

**Going In  
**"We all know what's going to happen. We just need to keep it under control. Just because it's Morgan in there doesn't mean that getting her has to be more forceful or faster than if it were anyone else. We still have to be careful. Danny, you go ahead first. Don will follow, and then Lindsay and I will cover the back. Got it?" Stella said, trying to keep her voice even. This was affecting her just as much as it was everyone else.

The team nodded. But before they could even get into their places, a loud BANG came from the house they were about to enter. Don's face went completely pale, and Lindsay grabbed his arm.

"Stay here, Don. It wasn't a gunshot."

A rustling came from the side of the house, and shouting erupted from the cruisers that were on the road. All of the guns in the area were now pointed at the bushes next to the house.

"Get down!" Stella shouted. "Hands in the air! Now!"

The man who was trying to hide himself in the bushes stopped moving.

"On your knees!" Danny yelled.

"No!" the man shouted back. "You have to let me take her!"

"Why?"

"Because I want her for myself!"

"So you've been watching her, Tom?" Stella called, using the name of Morgan's kidnapper. "Yes, Tom, I know your name. You're surrounded," she called, watching Danny, Lindsay and Flack move out of the corner of her eye. "Give it up, Tom."

"No!"

_BANG._

"Shots fired!" Flack yelled weakly.

"Go find her, Don! We've got him!" Stella yelled.

Don didn't need to be told twice. He ran into the house, breaking down the door with his foot. He ran through the rooms, painted a gross yellow, looking for some sort of hidden door.

"Morgan!" he yelled. He knew that if he kept that up, he's lose his voice in ten minutes. He didn't care. "Morgan!"

"Look in the bedroom," Danny said, suddenly behind Don.

Don ran his fingers expertly along the wall of the bedroom, searching for a seam. His fingers glanced over a small gap, and he immediately started kicking at the door.

"Stay back from the door, Morgan," Danny called.

The door broke with a crack and Don barreled into the near empty room. Morgan was huddled in the corner, her eyes squeezed shut and body shaking. Don hit the ground in front of her so hard, the knees in his pants tore. He ripped his bulletproof vest off and threw it to the side. "Morgan," he said, his voice cracking again.

She turned her pale face to look at him, relief flooding her eyes. "D-don -"

"Ssh." He hushed her as he took her in his arms. "Ssh."

"I thought he was coming back," she sobbed. "I thought he was going to kill you and come back for me."

"He didn't, and he won't. Not ever, Morgan."

He lifted her up off of the ground wedding-style, carrying her towards the door. She wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face in his chest, her tears of relief soaking into his shirt. Led by Danny, they made their way outside to the barrage of police cars and media vans.

"No one's ever going to hurt you, Morgan. Never," Don said in Morgan's ear, just loud enough so she could hear. "I promise."


	22. 22

Mac wasn't able to stand it. He was at the house, waiting for them to bring Morgan out. When Danny came out the front door and held it open for Don, Mac had to lean on the cruiser behind him to keep from passing out. Morgan was alive.

**The White Room  
**Now I know how Don felt when he woke up in the hospital - absolutely dreary. Not even a minute had gone by and there was a nurse beside my bed. She checked my vitals and adjusted a few things while asking me questions about my name, the date, and the president to check my memory. She then stepped into the hallway and said, "Detective, she's awake."

"Thank you," my father's voice rumbled. Something was wrong, though - he was angry. He appeared in my hospital room haggard, his shirt mis-buttoned and un-ironed. His eyes looked like he hadn't slept in a while. He had in one hand a piece of paper, and that was all he had with him.

"Hi, Dad."

He didn't say anything. He just stared at me.

"Dad?"

Face turning red, he set the sheet of paper on my lap, turned around, and left. A sinking feeling fell through my stomach and I picked the piece of paper up to look at it.

_SOEC Kit Results_

My eyes widened. An SOEC kit was a Sexual Offense Evidence Collection Kit. They had probably taken one while I was out. Under normal circumstances, I would be okay with that. But it had been less than 72 hours since my night with Don.

_DNA Recovered_

_Name:_

_Flack,Donald Jr._


End file.
